White lies

His credit card klick- klacks as he racks up white lies Broken metronome

Uneven rhythm measuring out lost moments We’ve had a twenty-

year love affair, hegurns, tapping out more heart felt bullshit to a beat

If only he could hear himself sniffing drippingin pretty, white lies.

- Roxanne Escobales

This is not the life I asked for, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

He read me the whole chapter ofThe True Story of Kiki of Montparnasse.A cafe is not a church, she said,then stepped up on the chairand across the table,jumping down asgracefully as a gazelle.

I think you’d like Kiki, he said.She was the Queen of Montparnasse.When we first met, I told himI would not pose for photographs.

Just a portrait that you’ll like,he said, pointing his lens,just a portrait that you’ll like.

He’s trying to catch fireflies,not knowing they light for just a flash.

But this is his story of her story.And we all know how stories end.We all know how they end.

Longevity is overrated. Cameras lie.Give me a flash. Catch me a firefly.

You are not Man Ray, alas,And I no Queen of Montparnasse.

-Roxanne Escobales

there

blood